


Towards the Sun ☀️

by Madu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Colonnello has a new crush and doesn’t know what to do with it, Dying Will Flames, Fon is dense like the Wall of China, Gen, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling - Freeform, Harry and his rescuer complex, Harry gets into another mess, Harry thinks Tsuna is too pure for all that shit, Katekyou Hitman Reborn! - Freeform, Kawahira has stress ulcers, Lucky Potter shouldn't be mixed with Chaos Aura, M/M, Oh, Reborn being Reborn, Skull being ... Skull, This time it's not his fault, Trinisette almost explodes, Viper is a fan of the queerplatonic romance, Xanxus's sarcastic self knows Harry's sarcastic self and they get along, and they also have a little fan complex, really - Freeform, shit happens and Harry Potter invests in the power of denial, we need more fanfics in this fandom!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madu/pseuds/Madu
Summary: He had a schedule. First, select the Strongest Seven among Flame Users, then test and tie them together as a Mafiosa Famiglia. The third thing was to curse them, because the world needed fuel and that fuel had to be them. So the Sky Arcobaleno died - and that was also on the schedule, nothing wrong there. The problem happened when Luce's daughter was unable to keep the Orange Pacifier because the girl, Aria, did not have enough strong or pure Flames.Well, screw it. Did you hear that, Sephira? He's had enough of those fucking Pacifiers. Kawahira was washing his hands of it, doing well and thanks.It was around this time that Harry Potter, eighteen years old and fresh from a fucking war with a mad magician, set foot in Italy.And as the new earthlings say, shit happens.Or that fanfic in which Harry Potter goes on vacation - because he deserves a little peace, after all -, gives an auspicious stumble in Palermo's Cosa Nostra and ends up unintentionally with a certain colored Pacifier hanging around his neck.(And, as always, Lucky Potter is an epic and absolute disgrace. Not that Reborn and the rest of Arcobaleno have any complaints about it.)
Relationships: Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!) & Harry Potter, Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)/Harry Potter, Checker Face | Kawahira & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Vongola Tenth Generation
Comments: 19
Kudos: 308





	Towards the Sun ☀️

**Author's Note:**

> The fan community needs more crossovers between these universes, many more. This is my self-indulgence fanfic, so please enjoy it without moderation.
> 
> Good reading :)
> 
> PS: Story title taken from Rihanna's song, Towards the Sun.

* * *

**TURN YOUR FACE TOWARDS THE SUN**

**LET THE SHADOWS FALL BEHIND YOU**

* * *

To begin with, airplanes are a bitch and a half, and Harry came to hate these things with a passion that would normally be reserved for Malfoy at a time when Hogwarts was beautiful and nothing hurt. There was no wind in the face, there was no adrenaline to fly hundreds of meters high with nothing between the floor and his body besides a thin broom and a leather uniform. Flying on a machine that weighed tons and shook with any change in the weather? Oh, Merlin, no. This would be the only time that Harry would sacrifice the freedom he found in the sky, because the wizarding community is all made up of idiots who think they can tie him to the ground. And there were his friends, Merlin bless their hearts, who heard what Harry needed, understood his desire to spend time as far away as he could from Britain's Magic Enclave, and helped him achieve that, even if he had to be Muggle-style because wizards would never let Harry go if they could avoid it.

Hermione took care of the passport, the plane ticket to Italy and the rest of the paperwork and money, as well as the translation spells he would need. Ron gathered maps for the magic regions, Neville compiled some things about magical plants and animals with Luna and Andy agreed to take care of Teddy until Harry solved his problems and was able to get back to him. Bill and Fleur sent summer clothes _(because Italy is hot this time of year, Arry)_ and curse-breaking manuals _(because Roman palaces are almost as bad as Egyptian tombs, Harry)_. Molly sent him food to eat on the trip _(here, sweetie, you have everything you need and everything is in stasis and reduction spells. Have a good appetite, my dear!)_ , While the rest of the Weasleys sent their congratulations on a good trip (Percy), asked him to bring some trinkets for games (George) and Muggle artifacts (Arthur), and ordered him to keep a weekly post card correspondence (Ginny).

So he packed his bags, went through all the airport bureaucracy without regrets - besides the plane itself - and left for the other side of the Canal. Three hours later, he was leaving the death machine that was that boing 747, retrieving his bags at the terminal and leaving with joy and relief from the crowded airport. And Harry really should send his thanks to Fleur along with a gift - Palermo was hot as hell and if he didn't get a tube of sunscreen soon, he would be frying in less than two hours in the blinding Italian sun.

Harry couldn't wait.

* * *

One thing that no one but the manipulator of Trinisette knew was that Rainbow Pacifiers were little pebbles with the personality of a five-year-old brat in the supermarket - that is, always wanting sweets. It was annoying, mainly because the little shits always asked for the most expensive sweets, so to speak. And the favorite brand, for the bad luck of the new Terrans, was the I Prescelti Sette - or as the Mafia mundanes called them: The Strongest Seven among the users of the Seven Flames. They ate and ate, barely tasted and swallowed practically without chewing.

And they always. Asked. More.

Because of this, Kawahira developed a routine; find the seven people with the strongest Dying Flames in the world, gather them around one of Sephira’s descendants as Guardians of a Sky, test them to see how well they work together and, last but not least, curse them to support the pillars of the world around their necks. Rinse and repeat and all that shit. For as long as it took.

So, after Arcobaleno's Sky died - and Luce's soul rested in peace -, Kawahira headed for the Giglio Nero estate, entered the main house and walked in the world calmly to the Donna wing, after all he had a strictly scheduled routine to do before he could sit and watch the show until he had to do this shit all over again. And he found young Aria exactly where he found her mother and her grandmother when he came to pass the Sky Pacifier ahead - sitting under the master bedroom window, looking out over the gardens of fire lilies and white roses on the property. Kawahira then took the Orange Pacifier out of his pocket and opened his hand, waiting for the annoying little thing to shine and be attracted to the girl at the window.

And he waited. And waited. And he waited a little longer, always wrapped in his Mist Flames that kept him literally invisible and intangible to anyone who was not remotely as powerful as Kawahira himself. Oh, and he kept waiting.

_Fucking Pacifier, there's a brand new and juicy Sky right there, just waiting for you to go to it and start eating. Come on, don't be afraid, just fly from his hand and you would only see Uncle Kawahira in a good twenty years, when he had to throw you at someone else._

An hour and forty-five minutes - and with a protruding vein in his forehead, a tic in his left eyelid and a fit of bruxism that seemed to be able to break his teeth - after his arrival, Kawahira finally had enough and left again to his antique shop to - who knows - scream in hatred and frustration until Sephira heard him from the afterlife before throwing that damn Pacifier into the first manhole he found.

Damn, he told her it was a shit idea to hold him responsible for the planet's survival. Damn it, Sephira. Damn it! What was he going to do now, huh? Pray that the world wouldn't end because Luce's daughter didn't have Flames strong or pure enough to hold the Sky Pacifier? Pray and beg for a deity that doesn't exist because your line of Skies seers is finally over?

Kawahira took a deep breath and forced himself to control his temper before he ended up giving nightmares to the neighborhood. It was no use getting pissed off now, as much as he wanted to - and he had reasons for that. He still had that thankless piece of shit to do, and an even more thankless pacifier to feed and a planet to keep working in compliance. And a new Sky wouldn't deign to fall on his lap, so Kawahira had better hurry up, even if he wanted to call a "fuck" to this world and let it all **burn**.

So, back to the planning table before the remnants of the Luce Flames that fed the Pacifier run out and he finally has a stress ulcer.

Kawahira snorted a bitter laugh and headed to the back of the store.

* * *

It turns out that, underneath all that Renaissance splendor crossed with the 20th century that covers Palermo - and practically a large part of the Italian metropolises -, there is something dangerous and dark that gained a name after a simple need of the people of the city of Genoa during the times of the Great World Wars and the fascist regime of Mussolini: the Cosa Nostra. Initially, what the world today calls the Italian Mafia was actually an organization of watchful individuals who sought to protect defenseless citizens and provide money to towns and cities where taxes were so absurd due to the war that people were no longer able to even buy groceries or maintain their farms. They stole and charged those who had more, killed when necessary and practically replaced the police force in the regions where they had spread, since the vast majority of the lawmen had been drafted into the Axis army.

Among these people was a young man named Leonel Vacchiano.

He was nothing special in general, to speak the truth. Dark hair, impossibly green eyes, naturally tanned skin and broad shoulders, a typical Italian charisma and a wit that was a hit among Cosa Nostra negotiators. The only interesting thing he did after the problems with Mussolini ended, was to move from Florence to Brighton, England, where he met and married a Peony Evans, taking his wife's surname and having two daughters, Petunia and Lily. The family moved from Brighton to Cokeworth in 1966 when the couple's oldest daughter, Petunia, was nine, and the youngest, Lily, was six. The Evans were a small, normal family of four who lived in the London suburbs, with a loving father, a strict mother and two beautiful and intelligent daughters in their own way. They were mundane and ignorable enough to be completely forgotten by Leonel's relatives. After all...

The Evans were civilians. The Vacchians do not.

And the legacy that came in Lily's Italian blood changed everything when her son died and woke up a second time.

* * *

When a new Sky Active appears, people know. It still starts on the plane, when the two stewardesses and some of the passengers seem to naturally converge on that particular individual, asking if he was okay and if he needed anything whenever they went through turbulence, however small. The effect continued on the landing, where the fingers of the customs officer responsible for scanning the new arrivals brushed the hand of this British tourist, and the man's sulky frown melted into something passive and even happier than it was before. He picked up his bags and crossed the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea before him as several heads turned towards the newcomer Sky, all of them feeling that there was something about that person that attracted them like a magnet, even if they did not understand what it was exactly, since the boy did not look very different from an ordinary young backpacker, with nothing remotely striking except for the messy mass of curls so black that they almost had blue reflections in the sunlight. The young man leaves the airport, sighs and looks at the sky as if he is enjoying something that none of the passers-by understood. He walks with happy little jumps in his steps to the taxi stand outside the terminal, gets on the first empty car he finds and asks to be taken to a good hotel near the city center, one that the taxi driver considered good and that was cheap enough for a young explorer like him. The driver laughs at the boy's thick accent, and asks what country he is from and what it is like there, wherever it is. The boy replies that he was born in a small village in Wales, but that he lived most of his life between Surrey and a boarding school in Scotland, so he cannot talk much about his homeland because this is the first time he has left in a trip for my own pleasure, not for studies or anything like that. The taxi driver grumbles in understanding, recommends a hotel comfortable enough and cheap enough for the young man and heads over there.

If this hotel is on the payroll of Giglio Nero Famiglia, no one but him needs to know.

And with that, once again, Harry Potter gets into yet another mess without even knowing he got into one. Lady Fate gives a sadistic smile and sits down to watch the show.

And so the Mafia wheel of fortune, which has been stalled for a long time, turns and a new future begins.


End file.
